What We Do Best
by Scritch
Summary: “Who is she?” she demanded. “No, wait, I don't want to know.” If this had been in a muggle film, he would have laughed. Some insane part of him still felt like laughing. Unfortunately, when on the receiving end it was a little more confusing. DG


**What We Do Best**

"I never could trust you… could I?"

The words caught him as he stepped through the open doorway. Her voice was so quiet, so calm, that he winced – and he didn't even know why. Slowly, his gaze traveled to his bed – freshly made-up - where she sat Indian style, shoulders slumped, face expressionless, and in front of her…

_Oh, shit._

In front of her lay a pair of lacy black bikini-style underwear, complete with matching bra.

His mind raced, working fast, trying to come up with a cover story. _Shit, shit. _Why did she have to be so obsessed with cleaning? Stupid bitch was too nosy for her own good, that's what it was. Must come from that mother of hers. The hurt in her brown eyes stung him, and he quickly averted his own. "You… you mean they're not yours?" he said, voice wavering a little then quickly gaining confidence. After all, it wasn't as if they hadn't slept together before, she could have just forgotten them. She just didn't remember. He stood up straighter.

She scoffed angrily and glared. _Mistake. _She'd never wear anything that skanky, and he knew it. But then she hadn't given him an actual answer yet. Glares can be interpreted in more way than one!

Now he knew he was getting desperate.

"Well?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and leaning against the doorway. His façade annoyed her, he could tell that much.

"You know they're not mine," she snapped back, body rigid, glaring at him. Ooh, don't get testy now. Redheads are _bad_ when they're angry. Not that he hadn't twisted that to his advantage more than once or twice…

"How long?" Immediately her demeanor changed, back to the slumped shoulders and sad face. Puppy dog eyes. She used those far too often on him.

"How long what?" Maybe he could convince her to stay, if he just pretended to remain ignorant. After all, it wasn't like he had no feelings for her whatsoever! Why else would he have taken her out on all those romantic dates she liked so much? They were for her benefit! He couldn't _stand_ candlelit rooms, and it was for her he'd suffered through the lack of lighting. It was bad for his eyesight. Dammit, not the eyes again!

"How long have you been seeing her?"

"I don't know what you're-"

"_How long?" _There was a hard edge to her voice now that he immediately recognized; it was one he'd never hoped to hear directed at him. But then again, what else could he expect after she found out? He sighed and ran a hand through his blonde hair. Damn, now it was mussed up. He'd have to gel it afterwards.

His famous smirk found it's way onto his lips. "How long would make you most comfortable? Was it a one-night stand in which I was drunk? Or maybe you've been trying to find a way to dump me all along, and I've been cheating on you for months, and now this is your perfect opportunity?" God, what was he _saying? _She was angry now. Getting off the bed, walking towards him, raising a hand… he winced, preparing himself for a slap. After all, he deserved it, right? Might as well let her vent. Wait-

She hesitated, puppy dog eyes on full power again, turned away from him to face the wall. Then-

"Who is it?" She started to face him, but with her next words faced the wall again. "Wait, don't tell me – I don't want to know." Turned back to him again. If this had been in a muggle film, he would have laughed. Unfortunately, when on the receiving end it was a little more confusing. "No, I do want to know! Who is it! Is it that cow, Pansy? Or is she like me, some innocent little girl you're playing with from a different house! How many girls are you toying with? How many, _Malfoy?"_

She used his last name. Bad sign. Disguise, man, put back on the disguise. Sneer back in place. "Wouldn't you like to know, _Weasley_, wouldn't you like to know? You're just another conquest, haven't you figured that out yet? God, you're pathetic." Damn those eyes! He stepped aside from the door, giving her free access. "Now you'd better leave before someone hears that whiny voice of yours and decides to check it out. Most Slytherins don't appreciate Gryffindor scum dirtying their beds."

…

Silence.

He would have preferred it if she'd slapped him one, good and hard. After this he'd need a good drink. Where did he put that bottle, anyways? He focused his attention back on the girl whose heart he'd just broken. Please, don't cry, oh dammit don't cry. It's so messy.

She stepped past him slowly, paused for a moment in the doorway, her shining brown eyes not leaving his cold grey ones. Every emotion, every broken memory was there and it drew his breath away. For a small moment he wanted to reach out to her, comfort her, tell her he was sorry because all the other girls didn't compare to her.

But he didn't.

"Betrayal," he muttered under his breath as he watched her retreating form, not bothering to call out or stop her in any way. "What Malfoys do best."

**A/N:** ::bangs head against wall:: I did not just write Draco/Ginny… I did not just write Draco/Ginny… I did not just write Dra-

Polyam: Hate to break it to ya sweetie, but…

Steelsings: Your fault! All your fault! Ooooh, maybe if I repeat it enough it'll go away… I did not just write Draco/Ginny… ::looks up:: If you left a nice review maybe I can forgive myself. Please? Don't make me live with this guilt! At least they broke up. It wasn't fluffy, it wasn't fluffy… oh it was so OOC!

Polyam: And it came out so naturally! The words just flowed off your fingers- ::ducks random objects::


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